MURDER BRIEF (22 page)

Robyn’s performance during the
Markham trial changed Brian’s attitude from infatuation to rapture
and awe. He didn’t usually praise his juniors, especially in
public. But he was so besotted he couldn’t help himself.

Of course, he soon worried he’d
diverted too much glory away from himself. But, to his relief,
numerous colleagues congratulated him on winning the case. They
obviously thought that, because he was in charge, he was the
architect - if not the immediate cause - of victory. Indeed, he
soon started to believe that himself. After all, he had the
foresight to choose Robyn as his junior, conveniently forgetting
his main motive for doing that was lust. He’d been thinking for a
while about entering federal politics on the conservative side and
performing on a larger stage. Maybe the celebrity he’d gained from
this case was the springboard he needed.

Then, to his great joy, Robyn’s
attitude to him thawed and she climbed into his bed. He’d never
chased a woman so long and hard. Yet finally he claimed his
quarry.

In all of his previous
relationships he was emotionally complacent, even comatose. But,
with Robyn, he tried hard to please, even pretending, against the
grain, to be humble and sensitive. They obviously had a golden
future together as one of the Bar’s power couples.

The only fly in the ointment was
his panel of girlfriends. In a display of tremendous discipline and
decency, he dumped every one of them except Patricia Lenehan.
Further, even when he bonked Patricia, his weak and malnourished
conscience suffered a pang of guilt. However, he told himself that
he wasn’t
really
cheating on Robyn because he and Patricia
didn't have a strong emotional bond. He didn’t take her out to
dinner or give her flowers. In fact, she made it very clear she’d
never leave her husband. Shagging her was just like meeting an old
friend for coffee.

However, despite that, he knew
their affair must stop. That was partly because he knew, deep down,
that it was time to grow up and partly because he feared getting
caught. Robyn had said that, if he cheated, she wouldn’t give him a
second chance, and he believed her. The stakes were too high.

So when Patricia stepped into
his room, on Thursday evening, for one of their regular
"conferences", he considered telling her straight away that their
affair was over. However, he already had an erection and didn't
want to miss out on one last bonk. Better to tell her afterwards,
if he had the courage.

They usually started their
"conferences" by actually discussing the case at hand. That brief
period of sexual abstinence usually created a wonderful erotic
charge. Indeed, after talking about
R v Stavros
for ten
minutes, he was desperate for a shag.

Finally, he frowned and said
they’d talked enough about the case.

She grinned and stood up. "OK
then, I’d better be going."

He felt a touch of concern.
Surely she was joking. But what if she wasn’t? "No, don’t go. Stay
and have a beer."

She shrugged. "OK."

He opened the small fridge
behind his desk, pulled out a couple of cans and passed one to
Patricia. He stood close to her and inhaled her musky perfume. She
didn’t seem to mind.

Should he make a move right now,
or be a gentleman and let her taste the beer first?

"So, how’s Fred," he said,
referring to her husband.

They often talked about Fred,
even though Patricia was cheating on him. She enjoyed unloading her
frustrations.

She sighed. "Oh, he’s very nice,
but so, so boring. Sometimes, during dinner, I almost fall
face-first onto my plate. And in bed? Jesus, if everyone was like
him, our species would disappear." She stepped closer. "You know, I
followed your instructions."

"What instructions?"

"No panties."

He touched her hip. No elastic.
"Good girl."

They put down their beers and
locked lips, her tongue probing for his tonsils. Eventually, Brian
stepped back and unbuckled his belt. Patricia started unbuttoning
her blouse.

He thought of Robyn and felt a
stab of guilt. He shouldn’t be doing this: she meant a lot to him.
His erection subsided. Shit, how annoying. Unnerved, he heard
someone - obviously himself - say: "You know, I shouldn’t be doing
this."

Patricia looked puzzled. "Why
not?"

"Because, umm, I’ve started
seeing someone, seriously."

"Really? Who?"

"Robyn Parker - a
barrister."

"Robyn? I've met her." Patricia
frowned. "How long have you been seeing her?"

"Oh, about a month."

"Really? Why didn’t you tell
me?"

"It didn’t seem important."

Patricia shrugged. "Well, don’t
worry. You’re not really cheating on her. I mean, we haven’t made a
commitment or anything. This is just sex."

Patricia was right. She was just
an old friend whom he sometimes bonked. In his heart, he was still
faithful.

Anyway, he couldn’t refuse
Patricia now: her blouse was almost off. They’d look stupid putting
their clothes back on. Afterwards, he’d terminate their affair.
This would be a goodbye fuck, full of exquisite pathos.

He smiled. "You know, you’ve got
a point."

She removed her bra. "Of course
I do."

What Robyn didn’t know, wouldn’t
hurt her. He dispatched her from his mind and kicked off his shoes.
Then he pulled off his pants and tossed them over the back of an
armchair.

To promote trust and
camaraderie, barristers had always had an open-door policy.
However, that evening he’d taken the precaution of locking his
door. So he got a big shock when he heard the familiar squeak of
his door-handle turning. He’d never imagined it could sound so
loud.

Brian Davis, clad in only a
singlet, underpants and socks, fearfully watched the door swing
open. He prayed the visitor was a cleaner, a security guard or even
a colleague wanting to borrow a law report. As long as it wasn’t
Robyn. He would happily suffer the most hideous embarrassment if it
wasn’t her.

No such luck. Robyn - the woman
he loved - stepped into the room, holding a key. Shit. Shit.
Shit.

Her eyes immediately fell on his
trousers which, instead of clothing his legs, were draped over the
back of an armchair. He desperately wanted to jump into them. But
even if he did, he couldn’t just hide Patricia in one of the
pockets.

Next, Robyn’s eyes oscillated
between the two scantily clad barristers. Her face went white, then
red. She yelled at Brian, "you fucking, fucking bastard", spun
around and stormed out of the room.

Patricia yelped and reached for
her bra.

Brian felt a strange combination
of shock, fear, guilt and embarrassment. But one thought reigned
supreme: he had to catch Robyn before she disappeared.

Heart pounding, he grabbed his
pants and almost vaulted into them. No time for shoes. Buckling his
belt, he raced across the deserted floor towards the lifts, where
Robyn maniacally jabbed the
down
button. At some point, his
penis had cancelled his erection.

He said: "Stop Robyn. Stop. Let
me explain. Stop."

Robyn kept punching the button.
"Leave me alone."

Brian’s occupation was to think
up excuses for the most atrocious conduct. Now, in his own defence,
he was bereft. He just started talking, hoping for a flash of
inspiration. "Look, umm, I know that looked bad. I know you must be
very angry. But, ah, nothing happened - nothing." Yes, he’d claim
there was no
actus reus
.

She turned and glared. "Nothing
happened? You had your fucking pants off."

"Yeah. But we didn’t do
anything. There was no sex."

She grimaced. "Oh, I see. You
were going to fuck her, but didn’t get the chance. So everything’s
Okay-Dokay. Is that what you’re saying?"

His defence stunk, but he
couldn’t think of a better one. "Well, yeah, I suppose so."

"If I hadn’t turned up, you’d be
fucking her right now, wouldn’t you?"

"Not necessarily."

She snarled and roared. "Not
necessarily? You had your pants off. Do you think I’m a moron?"

"No. But I was having doubts
about going ahead."

She looked sardonic. "Yeah, I
could see that."

"But you don’t understand about
Patricia and me: we’re not in a relationship; we’ve never had a
relationship - we’re just friends. So you’ve got nothing to worry
about."

Robyn grimaced. "You kidding?
You were going to shag her."

"Yeah, but she doesn’t mean
anything to me. Nothing. In fact, I’ll never see her again, I
promise."

"Look, as far as I’m concerned,
you can shag her for all eternity. I don’t care, because I’m
finished with you, understand? Finished."

Brian knew his blathering had
stripped him of dignity without improving his position one iota. He
should shut up. But his mouth was in overdrive. "I love you. You’re
the woman I want."

Robyn shook her head vehemently.
"You should have thought of that before you tried to shag
her
. I just hope she’s worth it."

A lift arrived. Robyn stepped
inside and slapped the
"
down"
button.

He looked desperate. "Maybe we
can talk about this tomorrow, when you’re calmer?"

"Get fucked."

The lift doors shut.

Brian slouched back to his room,
depressed and embarrassed. How the hell did he get into this
situation? One possibility was that he fucked up. But he couldn’t
accept that, because only fools fuck up, and he wasn’t a fool. No,
this was a simple case of bad luck. For once, fate had dealt him a
shitty hand.

Patricia, now fully dressed,
looked concerned. "Was that your girlfriend?"

"
Ex
-girlfriend," he said
glumly.

"Oh. Sorry to hear that."

Robyn had plenty of time to
prepare herself for the scene in Brian’s room. But the reality was
a lot uglier and more distressing than she expected. She’d never
felt so angry and humiliated.

Still trembling, she left the
building and stopped a passing taxi. As it took her home, she
slowly regained her composure and wondered what to tell people
about their break-up. Should she reveal Brian cheated on her? If
she did, people would laugh at her for trusting such a notorious
skirt-chaser and then letting him wander. Better to say they were
incompatible and separated amicably? Yes, she’d bury the messy
details; just say the chemistry was wrong.

She trotted up the front steps.
The hallway light was on. Veronica. Shit. Robyn didn’t want to talk
to anyone right now. She’d just exchange a few pleasantries and
retreat to her room.

As she opened the front door,
Veronica called from the lounge room. "Hey, I’m in here."

She stepped into the lounge room
and saw her friend sitting on the couch in a grey track-suit,
holding a bowl of cherries, watching a cooking show noted for
ritually humiliating contestants.

Robyn thought she had her
emotions under control. But Veronica immediately looked concerned.
"Hi there. You OK?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you look a bit, umm,
upset."

Veronica’s concern unbalanced
Robyn. Her raw emotions welled up and she burst into tears: "No,
no, I’m not OK."

Veronica jumped up and threw her
arms around Robyn. "Christ. What’s wrong?"

Robyn had vowed not to reveal
that Brian cheated on her. But now, tasting salty tears, she
desperately needed some sympathy, even though that was not usually
Veronica’s strong suit. "It’s Brian. He’s…he’s been seeing someone
else."

Robyn dropped her head onto
Veronica’s shoulder and sobbed loudly. Veronica patted her on the
back. "There, there. That’s terrible. Terrible. When did you find
out?"

Robyn stepped back and brushed
away her tears. "Tonight. I caught him in his room with another
woman."

Veronica frowned. "Really? Maybe
you misinterpreted what you saw."

"No. They were both nearly
naked."

"Mmm, I see what you mean."

Robyn’s crying slackened and her
legs grew heavy. She slumped onto the couch.

Veronica sat beside her and took
her hand. "God, men are so stupid, aren’t they? Did you recognize
the woman?"

"Yes. Her name’s Patricia
Lenehan. It seems they’ve been bonking for a long time. He said
they’re just friends and weren’t serious."

"You think that’s true?"

Robyn shrugged. "Probably. But
so what? I don’t care why they were shagging. I’m finished with
him. I won’t take him back. Never."

Veronica frowned. "You sure
about that? I mean, I know he did cheat - which is wrong, of
course. But we all make mistakes and he’s still got a lot to offer.
Don’t burn all your bridges."

Typical of Veronica to adopt
such a cold-blooded attitude. Robyn shook her head. "No, it's over,
totally."

"But maybe, after a while,
you’ll calm down?"

"No chance."

Veronica shrugged. "Fair enough.
You want a cup of tea?"

"No. I’ll go to bed, if that’s
OK? But thanks for your support."

"Don’t mention it. And if you
want that cup of tea, let me know."

Robyn rose and headed,
unsteadily, for the door.

Veronica said: "Hey, I know
something that might cheer you up."

Robyn turned. "What?"

"The Shy Boys are coming to
town. Three gigs next month."

The Shy Boys were Robyn’s
favourite band. From New York, they played a musical brew called
hillbilly punk. She’d seen them the last two times they toured
Australia.

"That’s good news. But who’m I
supposed to go with?"

"Oh, don’t worry, you’ll find
someone," Veronica said with little conviction.